


Right Beside Me

by taylorgibbs



Category: NCIS
Genre: Christmas, M/M, tibbs_yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorgibbs/pseuds/taylorgibbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Gibbs and Tony prepare to celebrate the holiday, the temptation to out themselves raises. Sequel to Snowbound.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Beside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murgy31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murgy31/gifts).



Gibbs stood in the front hall of his house, looking toward the living room. Everything was set up perfectly and he nodded in satisfaction, turning toward the kitchen/dining area. Despite how nice everything looked, the holiday wasn’t one-hundred-percent ideal. His father hadn’t been able to make it down due to a snowstorm that was centered over Scranton, but Gibbs would try to drive up maybe next weekend for New Years. He might even bring Tony along.

As for tonight, Ducky and Abby would be over soon, and Gibbs had the spare bedroom already set up for Abbs. With Victoria being gone and the loss of Abby’s father earlier this year, Gibbs wanted both Abby and Ducky to have a place to stay, a place where they could relax and let their hair down. McGee was with his family and Ziva…in a shock to the entire team, she’d become engaged to Damon Werth last week and was spending the holiday with his family. And Palmer and his girlfriend were taking advantage of a rare break from being on-call to do a Caribbean cruise. So it was just the four of them this holiday, the closest friends, the core team.

And if anyone commented that Tony was bunking with him, well, Gibbs only had one guest room and that was Abby’s. Ducky had slept on the couch before, and he probably would in the future. He was short enough that it worked for him.

Gibbs walked past the set table and toward the kitchen, resting against the doorway and watching Tony do his stuff. Gibbs had wanted this to be a traditional pot luck, but Tony had insisted on cooking, bringing in some of his traditions. He’d been rinsing some salted cod and had cooked his own pasta sauce, watching over it for hours. It was his Nona’s recipe and it smelled amazing.

Gibbs hadn’t gone all out for the holiday, but he had picked up a bread pudding and knew how to make a basic bourbon sauce for it. Tomorrow he’d bake the ham resting in the fridge and Tony would make the sides. They had a good system, though they’d never cooked for guests before. Gibbs just hoped that their teamwork could be brushed off as two guys who worked well together, rather than anything…else. Nobody knew that he and Tony had a relationship with each other, and it was much more comfortable that way.

“You told them to bring overnight bags, right?” Tony asked, an apron covering his T-shirt. He’d change into something nicer before Duck and Abbs arrived. Gibbs, however, had already changed, wearing a grey zip up sweater from some designer Tony had suggested, over a light blue button down and the grey chinos Tony’d picked up for him at WalMart during the snowstorm.

He knew Tony was going to wear a green shirt that matched his eyes and the same color grey chinos—the items were laid out on their bed.

“Told ‘em,” Gibbs replied with a nod. “The sleet outside helps. Snowy winter so far with the storm we got snowbound in and the four to six inches we’re expecting tonight. You get your crap out of the spare room?”

“Yep.” Tony tended to use the dresser top to charge his phone, to place his wallet and change and other walk-around items. Tony’d prepped for any questions from a curious Abby by clearing that off and dropping his gym duffle by the front door. They’d just have to remember to take it upstairs later to complete the ruse.

“Are we ready otherwise?” Gibbs asked. He stuck his head in the fridge, checking to make sure there was enough beer for him and Tony and Caf-Pow for Abby. Ducky had said he was bringing wine. The seven fish Italian theme was carried through on appetizers—a bowl of shrimp and cocktail sauce sat waiting on one of the counters. Abbs was in charge of tonight’s dessert; she’d mentioned baking something.

“You know we are,” Tony said, rolling his eyes when Gibbs turned back to him. “Shrimp, baccalà—its an acquired taste, but it is good, Gibbs—ziti, salad, garlic bread, Abby’s dessert. Tomorrow, ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, endive and walnut salad, and your bread pudding. We’re good.” He looked up and down Gibbs’ body slowly, unable to hide his feral grin. “Real good.”

“Tony,” Gibbs warned, unable to hide his smile, knowing his voice was softening.

“Can’t help it,” Tony replied with a shrug, his cheeks coloring. “When are we swapping presents. Tonight? Or tomorrow?”

“Whenever you and Abbs want to.” Gibbs didn’t much care and he knew Ducky would go with whatever they collectively decided.

“I didn’t mean that,” Tony replied patiently. “I meant you and me.”

Gibbs blinked a couple of times, shrugging. He’d given Tony the big present a few weeks ago, when they’d been stranded in Maryland. He’d gotten Tony one of those ebook things—a Kindle—and Tony loved it. He’d also built Tony something, a container to put on top of the spare room bureau, with little sections for loose change, keys, and even an open back so Tony could lead his phone charger out while stowing his phone out of the way.

He’d also gotten Tony a gift certificate for a large electronics store. It was time they picked up a more modern TV for the living room so they could watch some games together in that high resolution or whatever it was. He’d give Tony that when they swapped their non-personal gifts.

“You pick,” Gibbs replied. It wasn’t so important to him. He watched Tony reading on the little machine every night; that was its own satisfaction.

“Can we exchange one present now?” Tony asked, bouncing from foot to foot. It was clear that he had something special planned and Gibbs shook his head in amusement.

“Don’t burn the sauce.”

Tony stirred the sauce a few times, grinned, and scampered into the living room. “Which one,” he called back, and Gibbs strode in after Tony; pointing to the box that was wrapped as best Gibbs’ could manage.

“Okay, but you first.” Tony was so excited he was vibrating, and he handed Gibbs a smaller box, shifting and rocking back and forth, then bouncing up on the balls of his feet. Gibbs opened the wrapped plain box and then used his knife to slit the packing tape holding it closed.

“I hope you like it. I…I had it made special.” A touch of color tinged Tony’s cheeks and Gibbs realized this was an important present; it meant a great deal to Tony. He opened the box slowly and reached inside withdrawing a bottle…with a perfectly formed sailboat in it. Gibbs tilted the bottle, examining it at all angles. Every detail was perfect; it was just a smaller scale model of the sailboat kits he favored. And the name—NCIS.

Gibbs blinked a few times, staring at the boat, checking it out from all angles. It was a perfect present—Tony knew him so damned well and Gibbs spent a moment watching Tony and being thankful for what he had.

“It’s perfect,” Gibbs said quietly, knowing his voice showed how touched he was. “It’s…Tony…”

“I know,” Tony said with a nod. “I hoped it would be okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Gibbs declared, leaning in to brush a brief kiss over Tony’s mouth. Gibbs broke away first, turning and striding to the bookshelf beside the fireplace. He moved some of his books to the other bookcase, and then placed the boat there, in a space of honor.

“Thank you,” he said when the boat had found its new home. He could feel Tony moving, coming up behind him and wrapping Gibbs in a loose embrace. Gibbs settled back against Tony, completely relaxed, completely at home, his head resting against Tony’s cheek. Their bodies fit and moved together so well. They were in sync so much of the time when they were at home. It was something Gibbs hadn’t experienced for a lot of years and something he cherished, though he rarely admitted that to even himself.

“What are you going to tell them if they ask where you got it?” Tony asked, his voice soft in Gibbs’ ear. He nibbled lightly and goose bumps popped out all over Gibbs’ body. He let out a satisfied sound, closing his eyes.

“Tell ‘em you gave it to me.” There was hiding his private life, and there was lying, and Gibbs wouldn’t resort to lying. It’d cheapen what he and Tony had, and he wouldn’t do that. Not at any cost. “Now yours,” Gibbs said, motioning to the box.

Tony’s present opening technique was diametrically opposite of Gibbs’; he tore at the wrapping, attacking it. There were no fancy boxes here—it was wrapping paper and the piece of furniture itself. Gibbs hadn’t wasted time or energy in searching for a box to put it in.

“Goes on top of the bureau,” Gibbs explained as Tony looked at it, opening each drawer. “Phone, keys, change.” He paused and swallowed once. “Doesn’t have to be the spare room either. Could go in our bedroom.”

“Thanks,” Tony whispered. “I know.” Gibbs watched Tony pouring over the wood, a hand rubbing reverently over the surface, a fingertip grazing a corner. He checked every drawer before he lifted his head, giving Gibbs a gentle smile. “You built this with your own hands. Every time I see you did something like this, I’m shocked. You know you’re good, and I know you’re good, but this…Gibbs this could be in a luxury furniture store.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Gibbs insisted, feeling his ears heat up. He wanted to be like Tony and ask if his lover liked it, but he held back. It wasn’t the way he operated. But Tony seemed to know what he needed, anticipating him at home much as he always had at work.

“I love it,” Tony replied, hugging Gibbs close. He nuzzled Gibbs’ cheek, planting a very gentle kiss on his jaw.

“Take it upstairs.” Like it or not, they couldn’t explain how Tony came to have that without a lot of awkward questions. Knowing Abbs, she’d try to wrangle an invite to Tony’s now former apartment to see it in action. “Change while you’re up there. They’ll be here in the next half hour.”

“Okay, but get in there and stir.Don’t let the sauce burn,” Tony replied as he broke away. Gibbs drifted over to the bookshelf, his fingertip tracing over the glass, studying the craftsmanship. This was an incredibly thoughtful gift.

As he walked back toward the kitchen, he gave his goldfish a fond smile. Maddie Tyler had given him Harry, the fish, before she went back to California, and he kinda liked the little guy. Harry belonged here just as much as Tony did. Gibbs sprinkled a few bits of fish food in, watching Harry gobbling the flakes up.

Gibbs heard the shower turn on and he couldn’t help smiling at the image of a naked and wet Tony. Instead of giving in to the urge to go upstairs and watch Tony shower, Gibbs went into the kitchen and popping the top on a beer. Things weren’t the same as before, but the house was starting to regain some of its warmth and life. With Tony here, with the life and spirit Tony had, there was no other possibility.

Gibbs heard his front door open and close and the sounds of someone hanging a coat up. Must be Ducky then. Abby would have clomped right in.

“Hello, Jethro,” Ducky said warmly, breathing in the spices from the pot, his cheeks reddened from the weather and his hair ever so slightly mussed, from his hat, Gibbs supposed.. “That smells absolutely brilliant. Is it your recipe?”

“DiNozzo’s,” Gibbs admitted, hearing the shower go off. Ducky had two large bags with him, the contents of one clinking.

“I’ve brought some wine. Some red, and some white and also some mead. Funny thing about mead. Did you know it is made from fermented honey? I’ve also brought some mulling spices so that we might warm it on the stove and serve it later, perhaps when we’re playing cards. Ah, I love the holidays. This reminds me of a time when I—“

“Duck,” Gibbs interrupted gently. “What’s in the bags beside wine?”

“Oh, I brought a fruitcake. Made it myself from Mother’s recipe. I know some people don’t care for fruitcake at all, but Mothers is extraordinary. It contains, among other ingredients, whiskey. Ah it brings back some memories. Oh, and I also brought some traditional Scottish shortbread, which I haven’t made, but purchased, homemade that is. And…” He seemed at a loss for words for a moment and Gibbs rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“First one is always the toughest,” Gibbs said quietly. He knew how close Ducky and his mother were.

“Yes,” Ducky replied, looking profoundly sad. “But the company of very dear friends will help. I have the presents in the living room and my travel bag. Where would you like it?”

“By the coat rack is fine. DiNozzo’s is there.” Gibbs replied. He watched as Ducky pulled out the fruitcake and placed it reverently on the counter, before he removed everything else. Three—no four—bottles of wine, went onto the counter alongside the baked goods.

“Where is Tony?” Ducky asked, looking around as if he’d only now noticed Tony wasn’t around.

“Changing. He was cooking.” Gibbs made a concerted effort to sound casual.

“Ah. Will he be arriving soon, then? Is he staying over as well? Could have sworn I saw his car down the block.”

“He’s here, Duck. He’s bunking in with me.” Gibbs realized he’d phrased all of that the wrong way, emphasizing the word here, but Ducky didn’t react at all, and Gibbs let out a sigh.

“Will that be comfortable?” Ducky asked, his expression pensive.

“King-sized bed. It’ll be fine.” It’d be more than fine; it was where DiNozzo belonged. For a moment, Gibbs wondered how Ducky would take it if he admitted that he and Tony were together, but he dismissed that out of hand. Nobody on the team needed to know. It put all of them at risk.

“Good,” Ducky replied with a nod as the sound of pounding feet echoed from the stairwell.

“Je—hey, Ducky.” Tony’s eyes widened; it was clear he hadn’t realized Ducky was here. “Merry Christmas, Ducky.”

“And the same to you, Tony.” Ducky gave Tony a small smile. “Has Jethro told you that you must use his first name? None of this boss nonsense when he’s off the clock.”

“Yeah,” Tony said uneasily. "I’ve been practicing." In reality it was something they’d fallen into very easily—Tony was “Tony” all the time off the clock and Gibbs was “Jethro”. He looked at Gibbs over Ducky's head and winced. Gibbs gave him a “don’t worry about it” look in return. They’d both messed up already. Maybe it was being in their own domestic environment that did it. Or maybe it was something else. Gibbs would leave that sort of thought to shrinks.

He eyed Tony while Ducky and he were talking about the sauce. DiNozzo looked damn good in that green shirt. Hell, he looked good anyway. Gibbs watched Ducky as well, thinking about all the things Tony was too loud in bed for them to do with company here, when he realized that both Tony and Ducky were looking at him.

“Hungry?” Ducky asked arching a brow, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, I am,” Gibbs shot back, turning away and pulling the shrimp out of the fridge. He had to get a hold of himself or he was going to out them way too easily. Gibbs knew if he stayed with DiNozzo and Ducky, he was going to make the situation worse, so he took the bowl and plonked it in the middle of the dining room table just off the kitchen, returning for the cocktail sauce.

As he passed Tony, the other man gave him an alarmed look. Gibbs only shrugged, hoping there was some way he could dig them out of this. Not that Ducky knowing would be such a bad thing. If anyone had to know, it could be Ducky. Gibbs tried not to do more than inwardly wince at this thought process.

The door opened and Gibbs expelled a huge sigh, rushing to it to help Abby with her bags. As usual, she’d gone overboard. A covered container rested in the crook of an arm and in her free hand, she held two huge shopping bags overflowing with presents.

“Abbs,” he greeted, taking the bags from her.

“Gibbs! I have more stuff in the car. My overnight bag, cause you know even if I sleep in practically nothing at home, this isn’t home, you know, and that would be rude. Do you know that Tony sleeps nude? Wait, of course you do. Kate told me about the thing with the iguana in Cuba and how you guys broke in with guns blazing and there was Tony, naked as the day he was born, with a chair over his parts.” She finally took a breath and giggled.

“Oh, and I have more presents. And cornbread for tomorrow. Mom’s recipe. I wanted to really do it up because of Ducky you know. He’s here, right? He didn’t bring the Morgan, did he? Of course he didn’t, not in this weather. It would be like bringing my roadster out and that isn’t gonna happen. I miss my hearse. Yolanda just isn’t the same as Spunky.”

“Yolanda?” Gibbs asked, arching a brow.

“Yeah, Yolanda. My car.” She gestured out at the Prowler he knew she’d gotten from her father’s estate.

“You named that car Yolanda?” The car was like something out a classic movie, low slung with tires that stuck out from the main body of the car. It had class and style and was a great complement to her cherry-red roadster. But it was about as far from a “Yolanda” as Gibbs could imagine. Butch. Now he could see the car being called Butch easier than Yolanda.

“Well, I couldn’t name it Spunky now, could I? Spunky was the name of my hearse.”

Gibbs shook his head in amusement, giving Abby a gentle hug. “I’ll unload Yolanda. Go see Tony and Duck.”

“Yes, sir!” she teased, saluting with the wrong hand—again.

When Gibbs finished unloading Abby’s three more shopping bags, her overnight bag, and her cake dish, he walked back in to find dinner was almost served. Someone had poured large glasses of wine, and Abby was nibbling on a shrimp.

He placed the cake dish on the kitchen counter, and gave Tony a wink, a warm glow starting in the pit of his stomach. This was nice…this was right in a way many holidays hadn’t been for a lot of years. Then again, the house hadn’t been this filled with affection and warmth in a lot of years.

A deep dark part of him wanted to express that physically, wanted to wrap an arm around Tony’s waist and pull him in close. This hiding wasn’t doing their relationship any good. This pretending was just weakening them.

Gibbs tamped down that moment of weakness, accepting a glass of wine from Ducky.

“May I make a toast?” Ducky asked, waiting for Gibbs’ okay. When Gibbs nodded, the other man began speaking. “To friends, family, and colleagues, those who are with us here, those who are celebrating elsewhere, and those who are no longer with us.” Ducky had to pause, sniffing only once, Abby’s arm coming around his shoulder. “To the parents we’ve lost or have rediscovered.”

He looked at Gibbs, and then Tony, imploring them wordlessly to do their best with their fathers. “And to bonds thicker than blood, to bonds so tight that they show if one is looking for them, but are invisible to most. To courage, strength, and honor. To sacrifice for the greater good. And most of all, to friends I’m proud to know and celebrate this holiday with.”

Gibbs blinked for a few moments, adjusting to Ducky’s words and letting them surround him. Duck had cut to the heart of things, and had broken things down, just in less words than he often used.

And as Gibbs considered Ducky’s words and what he and Abby had lost this year, something became clear to Gibbs. There was enough time wasted here. It was time to be honest with his closest friends.

Gibbs nodded, edging a little closer to Tony as he took a sip of his wine. His heart was racing; he couldn’t believe he was doing this. But as he had a mental discussion with himself and made his decision clear in his head, a sense of peace stole over him.

Gibbs cleared his throat. “And to someone who…” Dammit, he couldn’t find the words. “To someone who is right beside me. All the time. He’s…” No, it wasn’t that he couldn’t find the words, it was that the words didn’t exist.

He turned to Ducky and Abby, nodding as he met each set of eyes, and then back to Tony. “He’s mine,” Gibbs finished simply.

Tony’s eyes were wide, a hint of panic in them. "Oh s— You’re not sick? You’re—“

Gibbs shook his head. “I’m okay, Tony. Not hiding, not pretending. Just gonna do it, Tony. Time to let ‘em know you’re mine.” He wasn’t sure if he was telling himself that or the room.

“Yours,” Tony whispered, the widest smile Gibbs had seen in a long time on his face. “Yours.” He turned, taking in Ducky and Abby. “I’m his! I have been for a long time but we couldn’t say anything and I wanted to tell you, especially you Abbs, but—Ow!”

Tony rubbed his head where Gibbs hand had gently impacted his skull. Instead of pulling away, Gibbs leaned in closer, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Mine. Now drink.”

“Not quite yet. I have a question, a bit of business we must clear up,” Ducky said, his eyes twinkling. Gibbs had been so nervous and so wrapped up in Tony’s reaction that he hadn’t realized that Ducky and Abby had been so calm. Too calm. There was something else going on here.

Gibbs nodded, waiting for Ducky to continue. Beside him, he could feel Tony vibrating with energy and pure happiness, and Gibbs knew this was the best gift he could have given the other man.

Ducky turned to Abby then. “As nobody had December twenty-four in the pool, do I win? I’ve had the twenty-fifth for the last four years.”

“Four years?” Tony asked, incredulous. “You’ve known about us for four years?”

“Closer to six,” Abby put in. “That iguana thing, Gibbs? Kate told me you couldn’t stop checking Tony out and you must have licked your lips a hundred times. When did it start? You guys have got to tell us everything. Starting now.”

“Abby, do I win? You keep the records in your phone, don’t you?” Ducky gave Gibbs a sly look. “It’s over two thousand dollars. I’ll give you a cut, dear boy, since you were so helpful. Now, come on, one of you. Tell us the details fit for public consumption.”

“Boss?” Tony squeaked.

“Go for it, just make sure we don’t burn the sauce,” Gibbs muttered swallowing down the rest of his wine. They were crazy sometimes, but this group was his family, and he couldn’t imagine a better group of people to share his holiday with. He waved them into the dining area, stirring the sauce once. Gibbs sensed that they knew he needed a little time to come to terms with this and they all filed out, settling at the table, the hum of conversation filling the house.

Gibbs leaned against the doorjamb again, just watching them. He knew in his heart this was the right thing to do at the right time and he couldn’t feel more at ease with his decision.

“Tony?” he asked, more to see those green eyes than anything else.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jethro.”


End file.
